


Thanksgiving Dinner

by BloodCrystal154



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, They're so cute they deserve happiness, Wrench is insecure about his mask, Wrench meets Marcus' Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodCrystal154/pseuds/BloodCrystal154
Summary: Marcus invites his bestfriend to spend the holidays with his family.





	1. Request

**Author's Note:**

> Read me if you have the time!
> 
> I just wanted to say it is an amazing feeling to have a protagonist with the same skin complexion and mannerisms as you! Marcus was so fun and easy to write for me and I really hope y'all enjoy! (Some of Marcus' mom's personality and speech is based off my own mother.)

"Come on, man!" Marcus raised his voice slightly, growing increasingly frustrated with his friends obstinacy. "Stop trippin', she said it would be fine." He crossed his arms over his chest, showing his companion he didn't plan on backing down anytime soon.

The eyes of Wrench's mask lit up unhappily; showing a greater than to a less than sign. His mood shifting from slightly annoyed from Marcus' prodding, to imperceptibly agitated. He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Marcus you don't understand! Once she sees this," He pauses to gesture wildly at his mask. "She's gonna _freak_!"

Wrench stared at Marcus from behind his mask, his default double X's flickering back reluctantly as if they knew they had no place being there, given his emotions currently are riding a tilde wave of indecisiveness. He turns back to his workbench, unable to look at his friends melancholy expression for too long, lest he give in.

Marcus rolls his eyes to the back of his head. Although he does understand Wrench's insecurities and concerns towards his appearance, it doesn't make him any less bitter about the situation. He slowly strides around his friends workbench calming himself, and thinking of a solution that would satisfy the both of them; as well as smooth out any remaining uncertainty.

His eyes widen as a character would in one of those old cartoons he would watch when he got home from school as a child. He digs around in both of his front pockets before snatching his phone out with a triumphant grin. _Of course_ , it was so obvious he almost face palmed from his own obliviousness. If Wrench wouldn't listen to him, maybe he would come to his senses if he heard it straight from the horses mouth. Marcus forced down the home button, making the screen light up with a soft glow. He put in his passcode automatically and tapped the green phone icon. Marcus giddily puts a hand up to his mouth, trying to hide his grin from behind Wrench and silence the chuckles threatening to bubble up from his throat. He's memorized the number by now and puts it in without hesitation. Putting the phone up to his ear, he patiently waits outs the shrill ringing.

Thankfully he doesn't have to wait long, as the line clicks after three rings. "Hello?"

Marcus can't help but beam at the feminine voice on the other end. "Hey mom."

Wrench's immediate response is to tense and whip around from what he pretended to be working on to face Marcus. Exclamation points blinking rapidly as a warning to his friend to _cut that shit out, this isn't funny_.

This time, Marcus allows himself an amused huff and puts his mother on speaker phone.

"Marcus!" His mother exclaimed. Her smile could be heard through her soothing voice. "How're you, baby?"

Marcus hooks two fingers in one of Wrench's many front belt loops and pulls to keep his friend from bolting as he answers back with just as much enthusiasm. "I'm fine! I'm fine," He reassures. "You remember my friend I told y'all about, right?"

His mother pauses momentarily, trying to recall the information. "Ya mean your friend Wrench?"

Marcus tries and fails to keep a straight face at his mothers exaggerated accent. He remembers he used to have the same before he decided to move to California. "Yeah, him! He wants to talk to you, if you're not busy or anything?" Being considerate of his mom, he neatly tacks on that last part.

She makes a mildly offended noise before replying. "You think I'd be too busy to talk to my baby or some'a his friends?" She guffaws and continues. "Put them on the phone, boy."

Marcus grins toothily at the phone before shifting his attention over to his friend, desperately trying to get free. He holds out the phone towards Wrench expectantly. The man in question looks down at the piece of technology as if it had personally offended him and back up at Marcus. The eyes of his mask now blinking brightly, furious, switching between exclamation points as well as backwards and forward slashes, showing his discomfort.

The flashing stops and is replaced by two underscores. He folds his hands in prayer, silently pleading with the man currently holding him hostage. "Come on." Marcus pleads quietly while he holds the phone to his chest. The last thing he wants his mother to hear is them bickering about whether or not Wrench was actually going to go through with this and _just talk to his goddamn mom holy shit Wrench she's not gonna kick your ass through the phone_.

After a bit of back and forth, a few more pleas, and a threat, Wrench finally gives in to Marcus' cheapest move; puppy dog eyes. He hangs his head in defeat and slowly puts his hand out for the phone. He feels the sudden weight of it in his palm not a second later and his mouth feels like he just scarfed down a bucket full of sand.

"Hey," His voice cracks and the synthesizer distorting his voice only helps in making it worse. He clears his throat and hurriedly tries again before Marcus can call him out on it.

"Hey, Ms.Holloway. I- uh- How are you?" He stutters over himself trying to find something to say. He goes the safe route and opts for small talk.

"I'm fine, honey." Wrench would have legged it right then and there, if it wasn't for Marcus' iron grip still firmly around his belt loop on the left of his hip. "You still joinin' us for Thanksgivin', right?"

Wrench looked expectantly at Marcus, hash tags flickering hesitantly in his mask. Marcus nodded, trying to soothe his friends nerves and gestured towards the phone urging him to continue speaking.

Doubtful, he did what was expected of him and continued. "...Actually that's what I wanted to talk about." He waits a few beats to get his breathing under control. This is always the hardest part. "I-I have this, uh, thing," Great start. "It's a mask." He blurts and instantly regrets it.

He reaches his free hand out in front on him and grabs at the air, as if he can take his words back through physical force. His eyes are screwed shut behind his mask and he lets his hood fall onto his neck to yank at his blond locks in poorly concealed frustration. Marcus sees this and takes pity on him. He unhooks his hand out his companions belt loop in exchange for softly nudging the offending hand out of his friends hair, letting it fall back to Wrench's side.

"Is that all?" she chuckles lightly. "You got me sittin' here thinkin' you were dyin' or somethin'." The chuckles turn into a full on laughing fit. "So, you joinin' us, right? She repeats her question from earlier.

Marcus gives an amused snort of his own.

Wrench is befuddled.

"Y-Yeah!" He says stuffing his confusion into the corner of his mind for later. "Yeah, I'll be there." Marcus witnesses Wrench trying to play it off cool and can't help but grin affectionately at the attempt.

"Well, alright then." She says with finality. "I'll be seein' the both of you in about a week, then."

Marcus can see a light shade of pink dust its way up Wrench's neck, even after he's put his hood back into place.

He exchanges pleasantries with his mother and hangs up before snaking an arm around his buddy's shoulders.

"See man, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He gets two lit up horizontal L's in response. Wrench's technological version of the side eye.

____________________

The next week goes by relatively quickly.

Too quick, in Wrench's humble opinion.

The DedSec crew has been celebrating Dusan's take down since the very day it happened. From going to their frequented pizza parlor, stopping at a few humongous theme parks with even bigger rides, or the more simple ' _getting drunk and talking shit_ ' cliché, they were all content with the way things had turned out.

On the day of Marcus and Wrench's scheduled flight to Atlanta, Georgia, the crew decided to drop the pair off at the airport and whisk them off on their journey themselves; Although the car ride there was an experience in itself, with only five seats and six passengers, they were forced to make do with what they had. With Sitara driving and Ray barreling forth, securing his shotgun seat, that left Josh, Wrench, Horatio, and Marcus to battle it out for the three remaining seats.

After an intense battle of Rock Paper Scissors, they all reached an acceptable arrangement. Marcus was, understandably, not happy about their resolution.

He was stuck in Wrench's lap with his legs spread out across Josh and Horatio's.

Marcus suffered through Wrench's suggestive tone and sly mouth as well as the rest of the groups smart remarks targeting his sexuality. He defended himself for the good part of fifteen minutes before surrendering to the sheer embarrassment, huffing and crossing his arms, similar to that of a child.

Somewhere along the ride, Wrench had slid both arms around his waist, not squeezing or tugging, just letting them rest in that position as if it were normal. When Marcus turned to question him about it, Wrench simply let his mask do the talking, one caret over his right eye and a tilde over his left blinking into existence before they were quickly replace by two carets. After that experience, Marcus decided it was best not to pry, the arms resting there, surprising no one, didn't bother him in the slightest.


	2. Meeting

As expected, Wrench had gotten some curious looks from a few bold onlookers as they passed by, but that was to be expected. The real conflict festered  almost immediately after stepping in line for airport security.  

Seeing his travel companion hesitate and stutter in his movements, Marcus grabbed at his upper arm, tugging until Wrench complied, coming down to Marcus' height. "Be cool," He reassured softly. "I got you." 

Letting go, Marcus began stripping himself of all metals and electronics, save for his phone, from his body, setting them gently into the crate and sliding them expectantly out to Wrench in front of him. His friend looked at the box, almost scared to touch it. Marcus airily coaxed along. "Dude, atleast take the vest and the belt off."

"Yeah, you would like that wouldn't you?"

There it was again, the caret and the tilde. Wrench slowly tilted his head to one side, @ symbols occupying the space where his eyes where hidden behind the mask. He held onto the gaze for as long as he could, challenging Marcus. Ultimately, Wrench was the one to break eye contact and comply to what was requested of him by unhooking his belt from the its metal loop and shrugging off his vest; leaving Marcus to ask himself just _what the hell happened there_.

Wrench was a skinny guy, Markus knew, but without his signature vest and belt bulking him up just that little bit, he looked almost impossibly small. Tense and unconsciously hunching in on himself, Wrench looked about ready to fight any of the security guards on duty, dare they say a word regarding his mask.

Wrench was physically and mentally preparing himself to walk through the medal detector. His stiff stride of false self confidence reminded Marcus why he hadn't put his phone into the bin just yet. As Wrench took the first step into the metal detector, Marcus tapped away at his phone, hacking into it before it could even begin beeping emphatically.

The watchmen looked on, stunned into silence. One even had his taser at the ready, anticipating Wrench to give him any trouble.

Wrench turned towards his friend, knowing what he'd done. Two carets replaced his default X's and Marcus gave a small, discreet smile of his own.

Something inside Wrench twisted painfully at his friends show of affection.

____________________

When their terminal was called to board for a roundtrip to Atlanta, the pair rushed to the plane, wanting to get to their seats before others would have the chance to obstruct their path. Comfortably seated; Wrench had begged for the window seat and Marcus had admittedly bended to his will, they sat back and talked animatedly about how a majority of the movies on the market nowadays looked like ' _complete and utter shit_ '.

Their conversation shifted into many different directions before their discussion on whether jumpscares were even socially acceptable anymore was unknowingly interrupted by the pilot.

"Excuse me everyone," The pilot seemed nice enough; it was their voice that grated on everyones already thinning patience. "This is your captain speaking, we will be taking off in somewhere between three to five minutes, Please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the ride." The announcement ended with a soft _click_.

"Wow," Wrench spoke up. "That guy sounded like a complete tool." He raises his hands in the air to punctuate his sentence, as well as quotation marks fluttering in his mask. "'Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the ride'." He raises his voice more than a few octaves to further prove his point.

Marcus looks over, somewhat taken aback. "Y'know, that's pretty bold, coming from a guy who calls himself Wrench."

Two O's replace the quotation marks in surprise, one bigger than the other. He half shrugs in embarrassment. "Point taken."

They don't sit in silence all that long until the plane is making it's way skyward. Wrench's eyes are practically glued to the window, watching the ground, the people, the buildings, grow smaller and smaller, almost minuscule to a point,  as they steadily ascend. When the plane smooths out and the wings are balanced, he rests his head to the back of his seat with a content sigh. He allows his mind to wander and sifts through thoughts and random memories as he watches the clouds pass by right before his eyes. 

His thoughts are rapidly converted to the man sitting next to him, presumably fiddling with his phone. He thinks about when he first met him and they had instantly clicked, immediate best friends. He thinks about how the mans smile can have his heart beating a mile a minute, how sometimes Marcus would call him about nothing in particular and they would sit and talk on the phone for hours, only hanging up if the other was busy or tired. He thought about how the man had offered to retrieve his mask from Dusan's grasp without hesitation and was actually _successful_ in snatching it back. He remembered what Marcus had said to him as he looked into his eyes. _His eyes_ , not some carefully lit up lines of code on top of a few pieces of fabric.

Wrench jumped, startled out of his thoughts from a foot gently brushing against his ankle. Exclamation points illuminated his mask before they were replaced by question marks as he turned towards Marcus. In turn, Marcus held out his phone to Wrench eagerly, the beginnings of a checkers game softly glaring up from the screen. Wrench willingly plucked the phone from his friend's hand and made the first move, making the virtual piece move in its intended direction.

This went on for some time, swapping the phone between the two of them for their respective turns. Marcus ended up winning, fist pumping triumphantly, before flailing about when he realized he had accidentally hit the attendance button.

The attendant appeared seemingly out of thin air. A middle eastern woman with crinkled deep brown hair rolling like waves down her back, her soft eyes crinkled as she threw them a winning smile. She was in the standard flight attendant uniform; long navy skirt that reached just above her knee, a white collard shirt, and a handkerchief tied around her neck, the same color as her skirt, give or take.

"Can I help you gentlemen with anything?"

Marcus could feel the heat on his face, neck, and the tip of his ears as he grew increasingly flustered. Now he felt even worse for wasting her time. "Uh- Sorry! I acciden-"

"Actually, yes, you can." Wrench cut him off abruptly. "Can we get some pillows, please?" He said in a sing song voice, his mask sporting his signature double carets. Marcus gave him a questioning look.

"Sure! No problem," She said, "How many would you like?"

"How many do you have?" Answering a question with a question, one of the carets flicker to a tilde.

Although the attendants smile never faltered throughout the interaction, it did turn into something a little more sinister. "I'll be right back." and with that, she turned in the opposite direction and left.

As soon as Marcus knew the attendant was out of earshot he turned towards his friend. "What the hell, man?" he hissed. "You shouldn't fuck with people doing their jobs."

"Marcus, Marcus, Marcus..." Wrench was shaking his head, trailing off. He settled his hand onto Marcus' upper thigh, making sure he had the other mans full attention before continuing. "Haven't we had that conversation? You know, that one about having a little fun every once in a while." He be-speckled his seemingly innocent statement by moving his pinkie _just_ that bit closer to Marcus' crotch. 

Marcus was a few inches away from jumping out of the plane before the flight attendant strutted back to their joined seats with a literal arm full of in-flight pillows. Wrench made no move to move his hand and silently dared her to call him out on it, hashtags flashing in warning. She momentarily glances at it before putting on her bright smile and dropping the pillows on to both of their laps.

Her bright voice chirps, "Enjoy!" But her eyes say _please, don't fuck on the plane_.

Wrench's hand leaves his thigh, as some of the pillows were sliding off onto the ground, and Marcus feels himself let go of a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding.

"Yo, M, help me build this fort." Wrench says. He was already starting to 'construct' his side of a pillow barricade.

Marcus is still speechless so he decides to file what just happened under the _think about later_ files in his brain and help his friend construct a truly glorious pillow fort.  

When they've finished encasing themselves in the relatively fluffy in-flight pillows they decide it would be best to leave a gap between the two of them. The pair use this gap as means to show eachother memes they think the other would like. Both have their headphones in and doze off a couple of times during the flight until they reach their destination.

Wrench is still in the middle of his third nap, if the two dash lines across his mask are any indication, when they land. Marcus nudges the other in the ribs luring him back to the land of the living. Once awake they gather their things, minus the pillows, and patiently wait for the go ahead to signal it was time to depart from the plane.

The duo make their way from the terminal to baggage claim. Marcus shoots a quick text to his mother, telling her their current location.

They spotted their bags and snatched them up, before sitting on one of the benches outside of the airport to wait patiently for Marcus' mother to arrive.

Wrench was nervous, Marcus knew. The way his leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down, or the way his hands twitched, aching for something to grab onto, something to _do._ The most obvious sign though, were the matching pair of @ symbols lighting up brightly in the dark corner of the bench where he sat, the streetlights struggling to reach.

"Hey," Marcus started calmly. He hoped his tone of voice would ease atleast some of his friends nerves. "She's gonna love you, man." He offered up a lopsided grin, hoping to get those two carets in return.

No such luck however, it instead blinked to apostrophes. Looking up at Marcus from his hunched position on the bench he said, "How do you know?"

His voice trembled slightly, unnoticeable to somebody not fully paying attention. He sounded just like he did that day those government assholes confiscated - _stole_ \- his mask. He sounded weak; _vulnerable_.

Marcus didn't like it. It made his heart arc and shrivel painfully in his chest.

He pulled the other man into a one armed, shoulder hug. Marcus leaned close to his friend, pulling his hood down a small bit to expose one small ear. "Trust me on this one, Wrench." He all but breathed the words into his ear and Wrench shivered. Marcus mistook the shutter and pulled the hood firmly back into place while offering up his sweatshirt to the other man.

"Marcus!" A cheerful voice exclaimed.

"Hey, mom!" He answered back, and just like that, he was a kid again and his mom was here to pick him up after baseball practice. He beamed in her direction, then glanced down in Wrench's direction.

He wasn't sprinting all the way back to California so that was a good sign atleast. Marcus gently  patted the side of the others shoulder in reassurance, then jerked his head in the direction of the awaiting Hyundai. Wrench stood from the bench, aiming for casual and missing by about twelve miles. 

His hand slipped on the bench rail as he tried to support himself on it, Marcus helping him the second time. Wrench grunted his thanks to Marcus and, in his haste to get to the car without making an even bigger fool of himself, tripped over his own feet, stumbling on to the pavement.

He could _feel_ Marcus' smugness coming off him in waves.

"Marcus Holloway," he said from his place on the ground, struggling to right himself, as well as his suitcase. "I swear on everything that I stand for, if you laugh, you will not wake up in the morning, I'm not joking."

That's what did it.

Marcus was doubled over cackling at his friends misfortune. When Wrench righted himself, feet planted firmly on the ground, his face was absolutely sizzling from the embarrassment and rage and _I swear to God Marcus if you don't stop laughing_ right now _it wasn't even that funny, shut up_. 

"Get in this car before y'all both freeze to death out there!" Marcus' mom insisted firmly. She had a smile on her full lips, laughter and mirth in her big brown eyes. He couldn't get a really get a good look at her, the street lights sending harsh shadows from the neck down. She looked happy enough though, so he figured he hadn't messed up his chances too bad.

His eyes lit up bright with exclamation points. "Yes ma'am." He punched Marcus in his right arm, non too gently, and continued to put both of their luggage into the trunk.

Marcus opened the door of the backseat and, exaggerating as much as possible, gestures towards the open door for Wrench. He lowers his voice and put on a fake accent to really sell it. "Your ride awaits, sir."

Wrench's mask flare up with two carets before twinkling to two tildes. Putting on the same accent and deepening his voice he replies in the same manner, "Why, thank you, sir."

 Wrench glides into the backseat and remembers where he is. He stiffens and Marcus shuts the door to take his own place, riding shotgun. Ms.Holloway gently twists in her seat to look at him properly and it takes every ounce of self control he has left not to scream.

"You're Wrench, huh?" She says, studying him before putting her fist out towards him. "What's up?"

Wrench does a double take at the offered fist, question marks flashing in utter confusion.

Frowning slightly when he doesn't accept her greeting right away she retracts her fist back and keeps her gaze steadily out on the road in front of her. Marcus opens the door and climbs in, ecstatic to see his mom after so long, he pulls her into a half-hug, unable to help himself.

"Hey." He says smiling that infectious smile of his.

"Hey." She says, grinning back.

With that, they're off.

There's traffic in Atlanta, not enough to complain about, but enough to know it was around a holiday regardless of how late it was. Their drive had been relatively silent, save for the music playing at a low volume in the background.

"Hey, Wrench?" Marcus' mother questioned.

Wrench gave a start before righting himself. "Yes, ma'am?"

She snorted. "Enough with this 'ma'am' crap, alright? My name's Alisha." She said it in a firm way, indicating no room for an argument. Atleast now he knew where Marcus got it from.

"Yes m-," He sputtered a bit. "I mean, uh, yes- Alisha?"

The questioning tone in his anamorphic voice made her give another amused snort followed by Marcus chuckling softly behind his hand. Marcus gave his friend a thumbs up in encouragement behind his seat.

They made it to the house half past midnight and Wrench took a second to take it all in.

It was a small thing really, burgundy red brick stacked together in the formation of a one story house. A couple of windows covered in thick sheets of curtain, a small slit in the roof seemed to be missing, exposing the yellowing foundation underneath. 

The trio exited the car and headed towards the trunk. Marcus playfully shouldered his companion out of the way adding a soft ' _Move bitch_ ' so that his mother wouldn't be able to hear his language. He turned back in time to see those two soft glowing carets. 

They gathered their luggage, dividing it evenly between the three of them.

"Y'all are gonna have to quiet down, Valerie should be asleep by now." she warned

Wrench reeled back, as though he'd been slapped. "Who's Valerie?"

"My sister."

" _What_." he hissed between his teeth, struggling to keep quiet as they entered the house.

"Look, man, I know that-"

"The hell did I just say?" Alisha whipped her head back towards the duo and faintly scolded them.

No one said another word as they headed towards the guest room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone save Wrench from himself dear lord my sweet cinnabun.


	3. Rest

Despite the great number of spikes littering Wrench's vest, Alisha hugged them both goodnight, to his surprise and Marcus' growing amusement. Content, she proceeded to trudge tiredly down the hall to her own room.

"Marcus." Wrench said desperately. The shorter man looked up from rummaging around in his suitcase at the tone.

"Yeah?"

"When did you plan on telling me about this sister of yours?" His mask flickered to two apostrophes, upset, but only mildly.

Marcus shrugged. "Didn't seem like a big deal." He turned back to his suitcase, continuing his search for something more comfortable for the pair to sleep in. No matter how tired he was, Marcus absolutely refused to sleep in his incommodious denim jeans; and he expected the same from his friend.

Two exclamation points highlight his mask. "Not a big- _what?_ " Matching underscores. "Are there any other Squidwards I should know about?"

Giving himself a mental pat on the back for locating the clothing buried underneath everything else, Marcus scrunched up and  chucked Wrench the dalmatian onsie he had packed for himself. He managed to smack the taller man square in the face with the cushioned fabric who, in turn, indignantly squawked.

"Hush up." He said. Now with his own pajamas in hand, he began to rise from the suitcase to leave.

Wrench rose along with Marcus from his  cross-legged position at the edge of the mattress. "Where are you going?"

Marcus lifted an eyebrow. "Um, to the bathroom?" 

"Why?"

His right eyebrow elevated to meet the other. "You really think I'm 'bout to change in front of you, Wrench?"

"Why not?" He prodded, taking a seat back onto the edge of the bed. "We're both dudes." He paused. "Atleast, I think we are."

Marcus hid his smirk behind a clenched fist. "I'm leaving now."

Wrench flopped back onto the light blue comforter, his lanky arms outstretched dramatically. "Come on now Marcus. You're killing me," He shifted up to his elbows to get a better look at the man he was addressing. "What do I have to do to see you naked?"

Marcus assumed his friend was joking, as always, and laughed off the heat crawling up his neck, steadily convincing himself it was never there in the first place. "Buy me dinner first," He paces toward the door before finishing. "Then we'll talk."

His friend perked up instantaneously  and sat up properly. A matching set of carets brightly materialize. "Sold."

"I'm closing the door now, bye." With that, he slips out of the room, making his way towards the bathroom.

Marcus remembers the layout of the house and quickly locates the room down the hall, across from his mothers own. He steps over the threshold into the bathroom and gently presses the door shut before twisting the lock out of habit. 

He sheds his clothes, letting them softly plop onto the off-white tiles of the bathroom floor. Marcus' own nightwear consisted of simple gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that seemed a size or two up from his normal size. He gathers his discard clothes from the floor, vividly recalling his mom chewing him up for neglecting to pick them up when he was younger, and strolls back to the guest room to his awaiting friend.

Marcus opens the door just as Wrench pulls his onsie hood over his unruly locks. His faux black and white ears flop when he turns towards Marcus.

"You like?" Question marks flicker to life over his mask expectantly.

The grin on Marcus' lips contrast greatly with an exasperated eye-roll. "You look absolutely stunning," He puts on an atrocious British accent and heightens the pitch of his voice. "Now Jeffery will certainly ask you to the ball."

Matching tildes replace the generic X's. He tries his best to imitate the same accent and pitch his friend had adopted. "You wouldn't happen to be Jeffery, would you?" He shifts the blanket off to the side to step into the bed.

Marcus chuckles before clicking off the light switch, submerging them in darkness. He slowly makes his way towards the bed, the only reliable sources of light are provided by his friends mask and the muffled glare of the street lights from the covered windows. He shuffles his feet out in front of him before taking a step to avoid tripping over anything just to be safe.

His shin knocks into the edge on a solid surface after a minute and he assumes it's the mattress. He reaches a hand out groping for the edge of the comforter, only to have remarkably warm appendages wrap around his wrist and _yank_. 

Marcus can hear his companions synthetic giggles once he's done thrashing about in surprise.

"Not cool, man." He is unsuccessful in fighting down a smile of his own despite himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this chapter is so short! The next one will be extra long to make up for it! (Also I've decided to change the amount of chapters from four to six; I have to many plans for this story, just to fit into four chapters. I hope you all understand!)


	4. Day Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking at a picture of Wrench for facial references and would you look at that!! Wrench has a couple of laugh lines forming! Marcus please protect my sweet baby boy. 
> 
> (Also lets play a game of guess the meme! Ten free hugs to the person that guesses correctly 'v')

Marcus drifted awake the next morning, dazed, yet comfortable. There was a lithe arm fit snug around his middle along with a nose buried in his neck and he was unable to find any reason to complain. He could feel Wrench's breath ghosting against his throat, forcing a tremor through his- Hold up.

His nose, his _breath_?

Marcus' eyes snap open at the sudden realization and, sure enough, there is an astonishing amount of mask missing from his friends sleeping form. He leans back as far as he's able, the limb still firmly in place proving to be difficult to work with, but he's able to manage a better angle without much effort.

His breath hitches before his subconscious berates him for it; a pointed reminder to keep quiet  as to not wake his bed mate.

Wrench's face holds none of the previous tension and pure anguish that seemed to be etched permanently into his features when Marcus last saw him without the trademark. His blond eyebrows were now smoothed out in contrast to how they were once scrunched up in poorly concealed grief. His eyes hover over to the angry red mark around Wrench's left eye on their on accord. He feels something throb almost painfully in his chest and before he knows it, he's reaching a hand out to touch the bruised skin. Marcus reels at his actions, thinks against it at the last second, and snatches his hand back as though he'd been burned. He mentally kicks himself and decides it would be better to look, not touch.

Marcus' eyes trail down the skin between his eyebrows, his nose taking shape in a fluid hump. He continues to study his friends features and his eyes lock onto Wrench's lips. They were slightly parted, his body wholly lax in his unconscious state. Marcus airily wonders what those lips tasted like.

 _Woah,_ alright _too far_.

Marcus propped himself on his side with an elbow hoping to pull himself out of his thoughts, before he felt compelled enough to act on them. 

When Wrench began to stir and shift, Marcus' eyes widen and he forces his body to go completely rigid, as to not jar his friend any further.  Just his luck, it doesn't help very much.

Wrench's eyelids flutter open and Marcus finds himself utterly speechless. His companions half lidded eyes are almost impossibly blue and he finds himself ardently drowning in them.

Those alluring eyes widen in realization along with a sharp intake of breath sounding throughout the deafening silence of the room. It was in that very moment that Marcus knew; he fucked up.

The arm resting on his waist jerks back. Wrench uses his now free hand to roughly draw the comforter over his head, effectively blocking his face from view.

"You, uh," His voice is muffled by the cotton barrier between them, "You aren't supposed to be awake yet."

Marcus blinks in confusion. "Y'know I've seen your face before, right?" He runs his hand up the sheet before tugging at it, wordlessly asking for permission. Wrench grants it by releasing his grip just a bit, letting Marcus pull it down the rest of the way. Wrench's eyes are firmly set downcast.

"Hey," Marcus says softly before lightly shaking Wrench's shoulder. "Hey, man, look at me."

He adheres to his friends request, looking up through his lashes hesitantly. 

"Your face doesn't bother me, if that's what's up with you. To be honest, I think you look pretty fly for a white guy." Marcus allows his hand to move freely from the edge of the comforter up to his friends jaw. He glides his thumb over the barely-there scruff speckled across Wrench's jawline. "Plus that mark on your face makes you look like a badass so," He trails off, beaming at his friend still laying on the mattress.

Marcus swears on everything that his heart skips a beat at the sight of Wrench's own meager grin. 

"Excuse me?" Wrench says in mock offense. " _Look_ like a badass?" He props himself on an elbow to become face to face with Marcus. "I _am_ a badass."

Wrench's eyes bore into Marcus, the pair still grinning at each other affectionately. When there's an abrupt knock at the bedroom door, Wrench is the first to react.

"Shit!" He drops his elbow back to his side and is submerged back under the security of the comforter in seconds. "Hand me my mask."

Marcus shoots up in the bed to rest against the headboard. He gropes for the material on the wooden bedside table while beckoning whoever was on the other side of the door to come in.

The knob twists as the door hinges creek in protest. Alisha's head pops in through the cracked opening before asking, "Y'all want some breakfast?"

Marcus locates the mask and quickly hands it off to its owner, still taking refuge under the blankets. "That sounds good." He directs his attention to the lump shifting under the cover. "Hey Wrench, you hungry?"

Wrench shoots up from the bed at the mention of food, his mask now firmly in place. "Sure man, I could eat." The smile in his voice is apparent, even with the way his mask modifies it slightly. 

Alisha does a double take at Wrench before speaking. "A'right," She hides her smirk behind a raised hand. "Nice PJ's, man."

Wrench examines himself before glancing back up in embarrassment. Asterisks replace the carets in a quick flash of light.

She chuckles lightheartedly at the display, dropping her hand back to her side. "Ah, I'm just fuckin' with ya," She turns out of the room and softly shuts the door behind her. She calls through the wood at an afterthought. "That's what ya get for leavin' me hangin' last night!" 

____________________

Marcus and Wrench decide to take turns in the bathroom, both taking the necessary steps to getting ready for the day ahead. Marcus goes before his friend using the age old argument of; _It's_ my _house so I get to go first. That's, like, the rule_.

He returns back to the shared guest room in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist and a dry one he'd received from the hall closet, bunched up in his hand for the other man.

Wrench looks up from the video playing on his phone and releases a throaty groan. "Okay," His mask displays a greater than to  less than symbols. "There is no way you're not doing this on purpose."

Marcus sets the towel in his lap and gently orders him to get out. 

Wrench being Wrench, twirls the towel up in his hands and flicks Marcus on the ass with the tip of it while his back is turned. He hoists himself up from his place on the mattress and races out of the room in a hurry before his friend has a chance to reciprocate, synthetic giggles following him down the hall.

Marcus delves into his respective suitcase, absentmindedly thinking of a way to get back at Wrench. 

After a bit of digging, he decides on a dark, sizable Yeezus hoodie and some loose fitting blue jeans to match. He gets dressed into his selection and heads out towards the kitchen area to help out his mother.

_____________________

Marcus and Alisha acknowledge each other with a quick peck on the cheek. She cracks a few eggs on the edge of the pan and turns her head towards her son, standing in the middle of the kitchen. "If you wanna help out so bad," She grins and turns back to her skittle. "Can you tighten the bolts on one'a the pipes under the sink for me, baby? I think it's leakin'."

Marcus nods, recognizes the fact that she can't see him nod, and crouches down under the sink. He reaches behinds excessive amounts of dishsoap and a few disregarded sponges to grab at the wrench, _heh_ , to begin his work.

His mom speaks up over eggs sizzling in the pan. "I gotta question." She addresses her son.

"Yeah?" He grunts.

"You an' that boy, Wrench," She casually flips the food over with her spatula. "Y'all fuckin'?"

Marcus boosts up from his position under the sink, only managing to collide with the underside and shaking the faucet with a subtle _thump._

" _Mom!_ " His voice cracks. He egresses from under the sink with a hand on the back of his skull.

She lazily shrugs and transfers her eggs from the skillet onto an awaiting dish. "I guess that's a no, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers block is no joke!! I will try my best to upload atleast one chapter a day, and will more than likely be adding chapters!! Just a heads up!


	5. Melancholy

Wrench enters the kitchen dressed in a long sleeve Overwatch T-shirt as well as some faded gray denims adorned with rips at the knees. The guy may very well've fought a _tiger_ , what with how many holes are freckled in his usual day wear.

He takes a seat at the circular table already set with a red cloth that feels smooth to the touch, along with numerous candle holders void of any physical candles. Wrench politely declines when asked if he'll be eating with them.

"I usually eat when, like, people aren't, you know," He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "There."

Alisha nods in understanding. "Fair 'nough."

The trio switch topics from there. Wrench is content with adding to the ongoing conversation when prompted or when he feels the need to add his opinion on the subject. He finds himself growing progressively comfortable around Alisha and even catches himself beginning to enjoy the company, rather than let it contribute to his anxiety.

"Hey, where's Val?" Marcus speaks around a forkful of pancakes.

Alisha points her butter knife at him in warning. "Boy, if you don't chew your food before you speak," Wrench snickers like a kid watching his friend getting a slap on the wrist. Alisha glances over at him and smirks before continuing. "When I went by her room this mornin' she was snottin' up the pillow like a baby."

Marcus glares at his friend and remembers to swallow before speaking. "Well, what's up with her?"

"She wouldn't tell me." She looks down at her plate unhappily and pushes around the extra syrup that managed to dribble off her pancakes, making patterns in the sticky substance.

Marcus sees this and dolefully pouts in her direction. Seeing his mother sad is something akin to having rain pour down on a carefully built bonfire.

"Wrench, man, can you do us a favor check on her?"

Wrench's gaze whips around towards Marcus, the eyes of his mask flipping from double semicolons to matching exclamation points.

"C'mon, I'm one hundred and ten percent sure you can cheer her up the fastest out of the three of us," Marcus continues to plea. He scrunches his eyebrows in a sorrowful expression for added dramatics. "Plus, this would be a good chance to introduce yourself, y'know?"

Wrench takes a moment to contemplate his current options. On one hand, he could go in there, cheer her up, and be the thanksgiving hero of the Holloway household. Yet, on another, more disturbing looking hand, he could march in there and totally scare the hell out of her, making her even more depressed than she allegedly is and never want to leave the confines of her room. In the real world, one would seem like the most feasible option opposed to the other; it's a shame Wrench's version is drastically altered.

He looks up from his elongated fingers to glance at Marcus. The look on his friends face makes him cave instantly, hypothetical hands be damned.

"Sure."

____________________

It's only when he's already placed himself in front of Valerie's door does he try to convince himself that this was an absolutely horrendous idea.

Wrench can hear gentle music playing accompanied by the occasional muffled sob coming from inside the room. He breaths in, counts six seconds in his head, and knocks on the chipped wood as he exhales, successfully gathering his nerves up into a neat stack.

He presses his ear against the door for a few seconds before loosing his patients and deciding, _fuck it he's already in too deep anyway, no going back now_ , and opens the door.

There's a girl sitting hunched at the edge of the mattress, her head in her hands adequately hiding her face from whatever's put her in this position. The floral pattern of her sheets crimple and dip around her when each sob violently wretch throughout her body. She doesn't bother acknowledging whoever intruded in her personal space and let's the tears stream a trail down her face, collecting at her chin, to plop onto her lap.

Wrench is not emotionally nor mentally prepared when he listens to the music, clearer now that their isn't a barrier blocking the sound, and makes out the lyrics.

_Next time we fuck, I don't wanna fuck, I wanna make love._

_Next time we talk, I don't wanna just talk, I wanna trust_.

_Next time I stand tall, I wanna be standin' for you._

_And next time I spend, I want it all to be for you._

Wrench comes to the ridiculous realization that it's a Drake song because _who else do you listen to through your teenage angst?_ He finds himself feeling increasingly absurd when the song leaves him feeling more than a feeble amount of longing for the man presently situated at the kitchen table.

Wrench banishes the thought with a shake of his head and brings his full attention to the weeping teen. He's been standing awkwardly where the hallway and the bedroom connect through the doorway for far too long and he concludes on atleast fully entering the room before speaking.

"You okay, kid?" He asks softly and crouches down in front of her.

Valerie's head jerks up at the synthetic voice. She sees two lit up zero's staring back at her in earnest and sniffs before speaking. "Ain't you one'a those dudes from Daftpunk?"

"Yes." He lies smoothly.

The tear streaks on Valerie's smooth round face match her red rimmed brown eyes. She folds her arms down on her lap, sitting up a little straighter to address the man properly. She wipes a majority of the tears from her face and drags her hand up to push her braids back.

"Tha's cool," Her stuffy knows makes her accent all the more prominent. "Never met a celebrity before."

She's trying to change the subject and Wrench knows it. He ducks down, leaning in slightly to catch her gaze. His mask sympathetically flickers to two slanted symbols.

"Hey."

She gives him a quick once over before settling on the eyes of his mask.

"What's wrong?" Wrench lays what he hopes is a reassuring hand on Valerie's shoulder. She lets out a dejected sigh and places a palm on her forehead, hunching over to her previous position.

"Nothing."

His mask gives a quick flash of matching underscores before being replaced by his usual X's "You're crying in your room listening to one of Drake's old albums set to shuffle," He lightly shakes her shoulder. "Try not to get offended if I call bullshit."

That gets a lowly chuckle but nothing more, the smile leaving her face as soon as it was there. Wrench takes that and runs with it; atleast it's a start.

He takes his hand back and lets it drop back to his side before lifting himself from his crouched position on the floor and glides to sit next to the tearful girl. He mirrors Valerie by hunching over and resting his arms on his knees. They sit in silence for a good minute, the only sounds in the otherwise hushed confines of the room are the intermittent sniffles and the gloomy relationship music.

_Relationship music_.

"Relationship problems?"

She nods into her palm.

"Fight?"

She shakes her head.

"You guys broke up, then?"

She nods her head once more, squeezes her eyes shut, and grimaces. "He said I was gettin' too fat," She chokes on a sob and bites out, "Said there was a fine line between thick and fat and I was crossin' that line."

Wrench automatically bristles before Valerie can even finish her sentence. He whips his head towards her shaky frame and studies her.

"You're not fat."

She lifts her head at the tone and counters. "You haven't seen me naked."

Wrench's mask flickers to apostrophes. "You're not fat." He says firmly.

"He seems to think so."

Wrench shoots up from the bed suddenly, making Valerie flinch. He shuts the door before turning around to face her still trembling through sobs on the mattress. It only assists in making him even more heated about the situation.

"Fuck him! Fuck his fat-shaming ass!" He throws his hands in the air as his mask glares out a variety of emotions; mostly consisting of anger. "Apparently he doesn't know shit about an _actual_ human body! Not everyone's gonna look the same as some photo shopped model he saw in a porn magazine that one time, _holy shit_.

"And yes, okay, I understand people gain weight, but thats _normal_. That's what happens when _normal_ people fucking consume food to survive; unless your metabolism is faster then Mike Pence in bed then that's just what _fucking happens_."

Wrench emphasizes the end of his rant by plopping himself back on the bed next to Valerie and huffing. He crosses his arms over his chest practically radiating annoyance. 

Valerie finds herself at a loss for words at the demonstration. She gawks at the emotions rapidly shuffling across his mask. He swivels from his place on the bed and she almost jumps.

"Look, kid, I'm not saying you were dating a fuckboy, but you were totally dating a fuckboy." 

Wrench pushes himself off the soft mattress and slightly raises a hand towards Valerie in a silent offering. She takes a glimpse at it before gradually setting her own hand in his.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the song Valerie was listening to by the way!:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlEjYVK482w
> 
> When I first heard it, it gave me some heavy wrencus feels for some reason? Then again, anything Drake related will do that to you.


	6. Planning Ahead

Wrench and Valerie enter the kitchen together, hand in hand. It took a bit of cajoling on Wrench's part to convince the teen to pause the somber music and leave the security of her room. He was exceedingly proud of himself for actually managing to get her out of whatever unhealthy psychological state she'd been in, but; he was also proud of her. Wrench knew _exactly_ what it felt like for a spouse to all of a sudden give you the cold shoulder all because they'd found a physical imperfection over time they decided they didn't much care for.

Marcus and Alisha look up from their breakfast to greet the pair. Marcus pulls his sister into a tight hug while their mother is cooing and fretting over the younger of the two. Valerie swats heartily at them, thoroughly embarrassed by the display because _I'm seventeen and y'all over here actin' like I'm three, please, sit down somewhere_.

When they've all settled down to converse, Wrench offers to clear the table and wash any remaining dishes from their earlier breakfast. Alisha smiles at the overture and discloses what dish goes where as he's collecting them.

He carefully sets them into the sink, as to shatter or crack anything, and turns on the faucet. Wrench grasps the soap and squeezes out a generous amount to drizzle over any stuck on food. He grabs a well used sponge from under the sink and gets to work.

It doesn't take long for Marcus to cave from his thoughts and check on his friend. When he sees Wrench, sleeves pushed up to his shoulders and a soapy sponge in hand, he outright beams. If Marcus was being honest with himself he would have to say observing the taller man in such a domestic light was eminently endearing; if not downright cute. Wrench notices his friend grinning at him from the threshold of the kitchen and looks up to flash two carets right back at him, without pausing his ministrations.

Marcus tears his eyes away from the scene before he has a heart attack and ops for something else to keep his mind occupied; maybe doing something with his hands will make him forget what he would prefer to be doing with them. He pulls a towel from one of the nearby kitchen drawers and slides across the checkered tile to start drying the pile of wet dishes steadily growing in size.

He picks up a plate and drags the towel over its gold rim. "Did Valerie tell you what was up with her?"

Wrench nods. "Boy troubles."

"She finally broke up with Terrance?"

"You knew him?"

"Did I know him?" Marcus snorts. "She would text me almost every day talkin' bout some, 'Terrance did this.' and 'Terrance did that'," He rolls his eyes in distaste at the troublesome memories and reaches for a plain white mug. "What finally made her leave him?"

"Well," Wrench draws out the vowel. "She didn't exactly leave him."

He places the mug back onto the counter-top and pauses. "What?"

"He told her she was getting fat and bailed."

" _What?_ " Marcus growls out. They had been dating ever since he moved to San Fransisco. It felt like just yesterday his sister was telling him how great Terrance was and how he was different from the rest of every other teenage boy that wanted nothing more than a quick fling.

"I know right!" Wrench places a skillet on the counter next to the rest of the dishes an shuts off the faucet. He turns to face his friend. "Isn't that fucked up?"

Marcus says nothing however and continues to focus on the task at hand. Wrench's mask flickers between question marks and his default X's before ultimately deciding to follow in his friends footsteps and stay quiet. He sidesteps past Marcus and starts putting the dishes in their respective cabinets, recalling what Alisha had told him earlier. This went on for some time as did the companionable silence.

Wrench puts away the last of the dishes and closes the cabinets along with the silverware drawer. Marcus haphazardly tosses the now damp towel across the arc of the faucet and turns towards his friend leaning against the counter-top, watching him.

He eyes Wrench from across the kitchen. "You up for revenge?"

"Oh dude, totally." 

Marcus lets out a huff of a laugh and glides up to his companion, holding out a fist.

"Let's fuckify his shit _all the way_ up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, another short chapter ;n; So sorry, weekends are usually the busiest for me. Don't worry though! I'm sure you lot will really enjoy the next one and I'm super excited to write it out!!!
> 
> (Also; added a few more chapters!)


	7. Preperations

The duo find themselves at a local Walmart.

Wrench exits the car first and hurries over to the driver side to haul the heavy van door open for his friend. Marcus places a hand over his heart at the kind gesture. 

"And they say chivalry is dead."

Wrench shifts his head in the universal motion of an eyeroll as two @ symbols flicker to life on his mask. Marcus chuckles merrily and hops out of the car onto the asphalt of the parking lot, making his way towards the supermarket. The taller man shuts the door behind his companion and begins to stride next to him

They make it to the main entrance and Wrench wastes no time at all in grabbing one of the many poles littered in front of the automatic doors, swinging around it like a child. The slightly more mature of the two shakes his head affectionately at his friends antics and opens his mouth to address the man, when he spots them.

"Holy _shit_." Marcus whispers softly. He waves his hand out to get the mans attention. "Excuse me, sir?" He tries to draw their attention with the urgency in his voice. Thankfully, it works.

The man stops and turns to look at Marcus with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"I just," Marcus takes a second to get his emotions under control. "I have to pet your dog." A statement with the undertones of a question.

The pup in question was a Shih Tzu with a light caramel brown fur coat and drastically huge dark eyes gazing at Marcus in curiosity. When the little thing plopped its butt down on the concrete Marcus just barely had enough self control to contain his squeal of excitement.

The owner of the pooch looked extremely confused, obviously expecting something much worse than a stranger wanting to scratch his dog behind the ear for a minute or two. He wiped his face clean of emotion before settling on a small smile for the fellow dog lover. 

"Sure, go 'head," Marcus was on the ground in record time. "Her name's Bagel."

Marcus' full attention was dead set on the little puppy in front of him. Right away he reaches a hand in front of her nose for her to smell. When she licks the longest digit of his hand in acceptance he actually _does_ squeal and begin to delicately pat her small head.

"You're a good puppy, aren't you, Bagel?" Marcus was outright cooing at the dog who, in turn, wagged her curled tail at the praise; the force of Bagel's tail wiggling the entirety of her tiny body.

Marcus is running his hand through her long fur when his phone buzzes twice. He frowns and debates with himself before ultimately deciding it was time to refocus on the task at hand. He drags his hand up her back one last time, relishing in the feeling, before standing up and thanking the owner for letting him pet his beautiful pup.

The man grins back at him and resumes walking, he calls for Bagel who gives Marcus one last look before obediently trotting to catch up with her owner.

Wrench speaks up from behind Marcus as he looks longingly at the retreating back of Bagel and her owner. "You disgust me."

Marcus snorts as he turns to face his friend. "Man whatever, you're just jealous you didn't get a chance to give her the pats." He plucks his phone from his back pocket to see that the buzzing from earlier were two new messages from his mother.

"The pats?" There's a pronounced question in Wrench's tone.

Marcus momentarily looks up from the soft glare of his phone to gaze at his friend. " _The pats_." He says forcefully. He looks down at his phone to unlock it and opens the green messages icon to skim over his mothers messages.

1:33 pm _(1/2) Marcus I need you and your bf to get me some things while you're out hon. I need some eggs, margarine, some milk, and a lot of fruit, yall can get whichever ones I just need some fruit. And can you get a present for your little cousin AJ cause I know I'm_

1:34 pm _(2/2) gonna forget later on and feel like an ass. See you in a little while love you <3 (PS we NEED eggnog do not forget) _

Marcus smiles down at his phone savoring the trademark texting that all moms seem to have. Run on sentences and autocorrect doing it's best with what it's given.

1:40 pm **We got you. Love you too <3**

"We gettin' some extra stuff," Marcus rests his phone back into his pocket and looks towards his friend leaning against the brick wall of the building. "That cool?"

Wrench pushes himself off the wall, taking a step in the direction of the sliding door "Yeah man, of course."

___________________

Wrench holds up two stuffed animals; one pastel orange bunny and one lime green hippo with a few distorted plush teeth sticking out of its open mouth. Marcus crosses his arms over the handle of their shopping cart, humming in thought.

"I'm lowkey feelin' that hippo." He unhooks his arm from the other to scratch at his facial hair. "Just feels like it's gotta lot more going for it."

"Yeah, but is it _too_ much?" Wrench counters.

Marcus hums once more. "You right, you right." He nudges himself off the shopping cart and skirts around its basket to approach the box Wrench was pulling these oversized stuffed animals from. He balances himself on his toes to get a better look inside the cardboard.

"What about that penguin right there?" Marcus extends his arm towards the sizable plushie.

Wrench watches Marcus struggle to reach for the toy. He can feel a warmth growing in his chest and doesn't bother stopping the chuckles that bubbles up from his throat when his friend groans in frustration. He places the two stuffed animals occupying his hands on the tile next to the box in exchange for helping his friend out. Wrench puts a hand on Marcus' shoulder to get his friend to lean back

"You're so short," He reaches an arm in to pulls out a gray and white penguin with a pronounced beak as he lightly teases his friend. "It's actually really adorable."

Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching the toy from Wrench's grasp and tossing it into the cart with an amused smirk. "Shutup man, you're only like, two inches taller than me." 

He reaches the cart and maneuvers it in the direction of the paint isles.

Unsurprisingly, there are a wide variety of spray paints, all of distinct shades and different brands convincing you their brand is superior to the rest. The pair look over their options.

"Which colors should we get?" Marcus questions his companion to the right of him. He's got matching question marks occupying the eye space of his mask and a hand under his chin. He hums a little before gasping.

"Yellow!" He exclaims. "Like a really bright fuck-you yellow!"

Marcus' eyes widen and he unfurls his hand from its the fist he had balled in concentration. "Yeah, Yeah!" He grasps one of Wrench's wrist in his excitement. "And we should get that shit green color!"

Two carets flutter to life on Wrench's mask and he squeaks delightedly through the synthesizer. "Marcus my man, I like the way you think."

They both snag their respective spray paint tints from the shelf and double check to make sure that they're purchasing the long lasting paint. The pair head a couple of isles down in search of some baseball bats.

Wrench is spinning a bat in his hands similar to how a marching leader would spin a baton when Marcus decides to ask the question grating on his mind.

"Why do you have a dalmatian onsie when you don't even like animals, man?"

Wrench tosses the metal bat into their basket a few feet away and turns around to grab a second one before answering. "It's not a real animal, Marcus." He chucks the bat at the man he's addressing who fumbles a bit with it, but catches it nonetheless. "It's only cute if it's not alive."

Marcus likes to blame hanging around Wrench a bit too much  for his sudden lack of impulse control. That seems to be the only explanation for what he says next.

"Y'know alotta people would say the same thing about you."

Whench's mask violently flickers between different emotions. Marcus' own eyes widen at his sudden outburst before he chuckles softy behind his hand. When his friend starts sputtering however, is when the occasional snicker turns into a full on laughing fit.

"Fucking _got 'em!_ " Marcus says between gasps. 

Wrench is thoroughly unamused.

He grasps the cart from the basket end and yanks it out from Marcus' grip on the handle. The taller of the two continue out of the isle to start heading up towards the food section of the supermarket. Not too long after that Marcus appears by his side with tears forming in the corner of both eyes and a smile planted firmly in place. He slips a hand around his friends lithe waist in a silent apology and, just like that, any rage that may have been bubbling in Wrench's chest is reduced to a fizzle.

"You still love me, right?" Marcus squeezes the arm around his friends middle. When Wrench side eyes him but says nothing more, he knows he's forgiven.

Marcus and Wrench get the remainder of the groceries that Alisha requested. The only hitch was when they were deciding on what fruit to get because _Wrench, man, literally no one eats papayas anymore._

They checkout  and are piling the grocery bags into his mothers van when Wrench asks his friend if he has the address.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA Wrench and Marcus shopping like a newly wed couple buying furniture. AKA Using the height difference to my advantage!!!


	8. Blowing off steam

"Can you call Valerie for me?" Marcus keeps his eyes on the road as he addresses the man next to him. "My phone's in the cup holder, thing." 

Wrench scowls at the man for a moment before compliantly plucking his friend's device from the left side of the two cup holders. He was still a bit upset from earlier, when Marcus outright refused to let him drive Alisha's car, acting as if Wrench would be the cause of some form of vandalism. Which, okay, to be fair there was a slight chance he might be.

But still.

"What's your password?" Wrench mumbles

Marcus rolls his eyes fondly, knowing full well that his friend was still irritated with him. "Nine seven three; six two four." 

He says the sequence of the numbers automatically and stays completely rigid in his seat when he realizes just what those numbers mean to him. Marcus silently hopes and prays to whoever's listening that Wrench doesn't put two and two together, lest it be a gateway to bombarding questions he wasn't sure he had the answers to just yet.

Marcus loosens his grip on the steering wheel when his companion taps away at his phone without a second thought; that is until, Wrench speaks up from the passengers seat.

"You watch hentai?"

His firm grip on the steering wheel returning, Marcus takes a quick glance at Wrench before facing the road outstretched before them. "I told you to call my sister, not look at my browser history, you asshole."

"Got a thing for purple-haired anime elves, huh?" Wrench snickers into his hand, pointedly ignoring Marcus. "You know, for a smart-as-shit hacker guy, you'd think you would know by now to clear your history." 

" _Wrench_." The driver says in warning.

He puts his hand up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm calling her right now." He lowers his voice and whispers into the phone screen. " _Salty_."

True to his word, Wrench scrolls down Marcus' contact list until he gets to one titled _Valval_ , adorned with two blue heart emojis. He taps on the name and puts the phone on speaker.

She answers on the fourth ring. "What's up?"

"Hey, val," Marcus speaks up to make his voice heard clearly through the phone as Wrench holds the device out near his mouth. "Can you text me Terrance's address real quick? I wanna make sure I'm goin' the right way."

There's a momentary pause on the other end. "Y'all gon' fuck 'im up?"

Marcus responds "Probably," at the same time Wrench cuts in by saying "Definitely."

A chuckle comes through the speaker. "I gotchu, I'll send it once I'm done cleanin' my room," There are some soft shuffling noises in the background before she adds an afterthought. "Don't kill 'im."

Wrench's own synthetic voice is the one that answers, unaccompanied by Marcus. The goggles of his mask flicker to matching tildes in mischief. 

"No promises."

___________________ 

The pair arrive at Terrance's residence at around half past six; the changing seasons in addition to day light savings time has granted them the added security of night. They exit the van in sync and stroll around to pull open the trunk. Marcus plucks both metal bats from a plastic bag and tosses one over to his partner. He then takes both cans of spray paint and sets them into his satchel for later use. 

Wrench shuts the trunk, practically trembling with excitement. 

They take long strides heading up towards a black Aveo Chevy situated innocently in the driveway.

"Would you like to do the honors, my dear friend?" Wrench waves his hand, gesturing towards the car.

"Gladly."

The bat sliced through the air with a swoosh and an ear splitting _smash_ as the glass of the front windshield was wholly shattered. Lone bits of glass shot up and rained down upon impact. Wrench whoops at the destruction and follows in his friends footsteps by giving the same treatment to the passenger window.

"Terrance!" Marcus hollers in the direction of the house. "If you don't get yo' Little Bill lookin', no neck havin' ass out here, your car's gettin' fucked up!"

He waits one, two, three beats before he hears a soft click. It wasn't the door like Marcus had hoped, it was instead the upstairs window.

Terrance pops into view from the opening. "Both of y'all got five seconds to get the fuck away from my house or, on God, I'm callin' the cops." He glues a scowl on his face at an attempt to intimidate them, but the slight tremor in his voice doesn't make it very effective.

"Fuck you, you fat shaming cunt!" Wrench shouts.

He lifts his bat over his head and literally hurls it at the man leaning out of the window. It just _barely_ misses instead leaving  a sizable dent in the paneling of the house. Terrance's eyes widen at the display of strength and he retreats back into the safety of his room, presumably to follow up on his earlier threat.

Marcus drops his own bat onto the pavement with a soft clank and reaches in to his satchel to pull out the two paint cans. He hands the brightly yellowed shade to Wrench.

"Let's make this quick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 973624 Spells Wrench in numeric form, goodbye!! I am official trash!!!
> 
> (By the way Marcus watching Hentai is a serious thing):  
> https://imgur.com/gallery/h39cX


	9. A Night To Remember

Wrench and Marcus make it back to the house a few minutes past seven. They both spent the majority of their ride home talking animatedly about how _awesome_ that was and recalling certain moments they were particularity proud of.

Spirits remained at an all time high when they enter Marcus' old home. Alisha was on the sofa watching TV as they walked in with a few plastic grocery bags hanging off of their wrists. When asked why they were out for so long, the pair decided there was no point in lying and fessed up.

"She was for real cryin' over that boy?" Alisha exclaimed. She moved from her place on the couch to follow them into the kitchen; continuing to question them, as well as confirming that they purchased the right groceries. "Why y'all ain't tell me?"

Marcus shrugged and removed the eggnog from one bag, along with the margarine. "We handled it."

"Yeah!" Wrench proclaimed excitedly. He dug around in his front pockets for his phone, still addressing Alisha. "You wanna see what we did to his car?"

Wrench had the device unlocked and opened to his camera roll before Alisha could bat an eye. He gently shoved the appliance into her hands, urging her to get a closer look. Her eye's widen slightly.

The first thing Alisha noticed were all of the windows, or atleast the ones currently visible in the image, were completely shattered, if not outright smashed in. The web like fractures caved into the car, no doubt leaving diminutive shards on the upholstery of the seats. 

Her eyes rake down the car in a heavy once over. It takes her a moment to realize the dripping yellow paint on the doors of the car read the word _fuckboy_. 

"Damn." She drawls. Alisha cringes one last time at the damage before handing the phone back to its owner.

"Yeah," Two carets oust his defaulted twin X's in pride. "He got what the fuck what coming to him."

"Hell yeah he did!" Marcus utters with his head in the refrigerator, his voice reaches  their ears slightly muffed under the appliances content hum.

Wrench directs his blithe gaze to Marcus' backside, openly staring. Alisha feels a grin tug at her lips at the display before carefully smothering it behind a loosely clenched fist. She pointedly clears her throat and Wrench jolts to attention, the goggles of his mask lit up with matching zeros.

"So," She speaks up once she's managed to grasp his attention. "Y'all plannin' on cookin' tonight or tomorrow?"

Marcus closes the refrigerator door and lazily props himself against it. "We should probably do it in the morning?" The words seep through his lips to form of a question disguised as a statement. "Y'know so the food can be fresh and stuff, right?"

His mother places a hand under her chin and begins to nod. "That does make more a helluva lot more sense doesn't it?"

____________________

The trio hug in departure and jaunt off to their respective rooms.

Marcus and Wrench are sitting crossed legged atop the guest rooms mattress, showered and prepped for bed, watching YouTube videos on the latter's heavily decorated laptop. Wrench grows increasingly frustrated when he finds he can't drag his attention back to the screen, instead, stealing quick glances at his friend from behind his mask. Every time Marcus comments on the video or so much as _grins_ in his general direction, Wrench feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach only to bounce back and catch in his throat; causing his voice to crack.

Okay, to be fair, these feelings are nothing new to Wrench when it comes to his shorter counterpart; but it never fails to cozen the breath straight from his lungs and make the blood rush between two different areas on his body, making him a bit light-headed most times.

"Marcus, dude." Wrench gingerly lays a hand on his friends knee. Marcus pauses the video currently playing and faces his companion. "Let's fuck."

Marcus' eyebrows crease together in confusion. He sputters a bit before replying. "Man, why do you play so much?" He scoffs turning back towards the blaring light of the laptop screen.

Wrench honest to God bristles at the accusation. 

"Why do you always think I'm joking?" 

That got Marcus' attention. He shuts the laptop before shifting his legs so he was wholly facing the other. "No offense dude, but you flirt with everyone." Marcus deadpans. "Like, all the time."

"Yeah, but you're _you,_ " The goggles on Wrench's mask illuminate with double less then three symbols in emphasis. "You're not just everyone; sheesh, Marcus, give yourself a little credit."

"Uh huh, okay," Marcus shakes his head at what he assumes to be his friends usual antics. "Take your mask off then." He grins. "So I know it's real."

And that's how Marcus finds himself, across the country to a state long forgotten, buried beneath new memories, new experiences still fresh in his mind; in the house he grew up in, sitting next to this stranger with some of the most striking blue eyes he's ever seen. A blue that reminds him of the coastline ocean, openly vast and practically begging to be explored. 

That's how Marcus finds himself leaning in slightly to get a closer look.

His companion doesn't taste like much of anything besides something that explicitly screams  _Wrench_. 

Marcus unfolds his legs from their previous position to instead shift onto Wrench's lap, effectively straddling the man. Marcus tilts his head slightly to one side to get a better angle and licks a long stripe with his tongue from one end of Wrench's bottom lip to the other.

"Shit." Wrench hisses. "We doin' this?" He grips Marcus' hips and bucks up against the man above him.

Marcus lets out a stuttered moan before leaning back. "Naw," He leans forward once more, past the others lips, instead to breathe the words across his throat. "I'm not fuckin' in my mom's house." He presses a kiss to the exposed skin. "I'll sure as hell give you something to remember, though."

Marcus grinds down to punctuate his statement. The hands Wrench has on the others hips tighten as he bites back a groan. He places a hand under Marcus' chin and lifts his head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. They move together in a heated sync, sporadically rutting against each other, before Wrench grows impatient.

He slides a hand down his friend's-- partner's-- Marcus' waist, giving a quick grope before slipping under the waistband of his pajama pants and gently squeezing his semi hard member.

He swallows his companion's rooted groan and tugs his hand upward, swiping a thumb across the leaking head, before leisurely dragging the loosely curled first down to the base. He repeats the action again and again, becoming progressively slower with each stroke.

Marcus is the one to break the kiss.

"Tease." He huffs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter absolutely refused to come out!! Also; I spent a good minute wondering if I was actually bold enough to post The Porn™ before deciding, why not? 
> 
> (You lot have no idea just how embarrassed I was writing this!!! My goodness)


	10. Contentment

Wrench wakes up the next morning with a strange sense of déjà vu.

His mask is off and there seems to be a subtle warmth bundled in his arms. When he shifts, the warmth follows suit. 

"Hey." The lump greets.

Wrench looks down and finds an armful of his bestfriend staring back at him. Marcus' eyes are all the more visible without the prominent layer of thick lenses that were usually perched on his nose. His eyes were a rich brown color that reminded Wrench of the sweet hot chocolate packets he kept stashed under his bench back in San Fransisco. He traces the rest of the man's grinning face to store into his memory, before his eyes settle on Marcus' chest.

His _bare_ chest.

Wrench's mind reels as his neck begins to heat up.

"Uh," He takes a second to organize his thoughts. "Hey." A wheeze of a laugh. "So much for not fucking in your mom's house."

Marcus chuckles. "Dude," He shifts up to lean against the headboard, letting the blanket fall and ride low on his hips. "All we did was kiss and jerk each other off."

The taller man strokes the soft skin of Marcus' inner thigh and replies. "Still."

He wraps his arms around the other man's waist. The cool wood of the headboard contrasting with the heated skin of his companion. He caresses the solid muscle of Marcus' stomach with the thin stubble of his cheek. Purposely breathing in the direction of his friends flaccid cock, Wrench relishes in the shiver he's given as a reward for his efforts.

Marcus all but leaps off the mattress. " _Nope_ , nope, nope," He leans down to gather both pairs of discarded boxers from the carpet. "If you start that, I'm gonna end up finishing it and that's something we don't have time for." He tosses Wrench his respective briefs.

Marcus considers going through the trouble of once again rummaging through his suitcase for a fresh outfit, before ultimately deciding against it and redressing himself back into last nights pajamas. His Bengals jersey rides up, exposing his midriff when he reaches his arms far above his head to stretch. 

When Marcus feels two lithe arms snake around his middle he couldn't honestly say he was surprised.

"Touchy." Marcus teases. Despite his words, he reclines back, practically melting into the touch. Wrench muffles a retort into the dip where neck meets shoulder. 

They stay like that, letting the seconds creep and slip by into minutes; The taller man's fingers ghosting over Marcus' abdomen under the smooth material of his jersey. Tracing patterns of some made up  language only he seems to be accustomed to; he is content.  

Wrench repositions his head so his chin rests on his friends shoulder. "What are we, Jeffery?" He heightens his voice to make it sound more feminine and puts on the same mocked accent from a few nights ago.

Marcus can't help it, he throws his head back in a snort. 

"Ya ruined the moment." He tenderly jabs Wrench in the ribs with his elbow and turns to fully face the man. "We're whatever you're comfortable with, man."

Wrench raises an eyebrow before leaning in tentatively. Marcus takes the invitation in stride and closes the gap in a chaste kiss. 

When they drift back, Wrench can't help but beam down at the shorter man.

"Yup, you're mine." 

____________________

When the pair entered the kitchen, Alisha and Valerie were already present. 

Valerie was fretting over the table cloth, smoothing out any wrinkles and ridges, as her speaker was blaring music over the sounds of sizzling food and popping grease. Alisha seemed to be the source of the beautifully permanent harmony that played every Thanksgiving; as she was over the stove, occupying three of the four burners with various food items. 

Valerie notices them observing from the doorway and makes an eminent beeline towards the entrance. 

She greets the both of them with a tight shoulder hug, one under each arm, Alisha is alerted from the commotion. She hurriedly assigns them both separate jobs to help with the preparations; pivoting back around on the heels of her feet, she continues to nurse a pot of water threatening to boil over.

The group twists and slip by each other in an abstract dance, whether it be someone reaching for the carton of eggs across the counter or plucking a utensil out of one of the many drawers.

Wrench may have stolen a certain amount of gropes on Marcus' behalf, but he was willing to bet no one was looking hard enough to call him out on any type of foul play.

____________________

It doesn't take long, with the help of all four involved, for everything to be established in terms of food. They all gather at the rickety wooden table and settle in.

Wrench lights the three candlestick, per Alisha's request, and bows his head, joining hands with Valerie, at his left, and Marcus, at his right.

"So." Valerie speaks up. "Who wants to start sayin' what they're thankful for?"

A beat passes. "I will." Alisha lifts her head.

"I'm thankful for--" She cuts herself off, looking towards the ceiling; thinking before speaking. "I'm thankful for my beautiful daughter," Alisha directs her gaze at Valerie who grins back at her mother. "Even if she has'a real shit taste in men." The grin vanishes. "And," She continues. "I'm thankful that my extremely handsome son could drag his ass back to Georgia to visit his family." She turns towards him with a mischievous glint her eye.

Marcus raises his head up and chuckles at his mom's familiar antics. "Love you too."

"But," Her voice raises in pitch. "What I am _not_ thankful for is him _lyin' to my face_."

With their hands still interlocked, everyones head jerks up from the table.

"Mhm, that's right." Alisha unhooks her hand from Marcus' to point an accusing finger at Wrench. "Don't think I didn't see you grabbin' my sons ass while we were cookin'; you ain't slick."

Wrench's mask shuffles through numerous emoticons and symbols before giving up, and going completely blank. The barren goggles of his mask accurately represent his mind. He is at a loss for words and _oh my God she was not supposed to see that_.

"I thought you said y'all weren't datin'?" 

"You're datin' a celebrity and you ain't even _text me_ about it?"

" _Please,_ can both of you _please_ stop talking _._ "

Wrench puts his head in both hands, hiding his mask from sight as the rest of the party continue to squabble. It's over the embarrassingly playful arguing and comical accusations that Wrench has an epiphany:

This isn't half bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for following this story!! I am especially grateful to all that have commented, left kudos, or even gave it a chance! When I started writing this, I wasn't sure if I intended to finish it, but you lot kept me pushing!! Thank you all!
> 
> (Someone please help Wrench)


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